


sir, this is a target

by elysiantree



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: -those are my only necessary tags, AU probably, F/M, No beta we die like Cedric Diggory, also, don't worry i am not a ron basher, sir this is a target
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 21:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiantree/pseuds/elysiantree
Summary: Prompt: "You're famous and I'm a checker at Target so I never expected to meet you but now it's three AM and you just waltzed up to the counter with a cart full of bananas and asked me to help you exact revenge so here we are, I guess?"Basically Harry and Ginny never really socialized at Hogwarts. Keep that in mind or nothing in this fic will make sense.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	sir, this is a target

**Author's Note:**

> Don't question anything in this fic. Just don't.

“Next.” Ginny Weasley unwraps another piece of gum and sticks it in her mouth, picking up the next person’s item and beginning to scan it. Apple, 4ct, reads the screen above the register. 

“Excuse me?”

Ginny’s stomach sinks. Not another one. And at three in the morning?

She plasters on what she likes to call her Annoying Customer Smile and says, “How may I help you today?”

The woman, who looks like a living stereotype with her dyed-blonde bob and sunglasses, glares at her. “This is very unprofessional behavior. I expect more from where I do my business.”

Ginny carefully maintains her smile, although inside she’s glaring nearly as hard as this woman - Karen, Ginny decides. “What do you mean, ma’am?”

As if Ginny’s ignorance is an offense bigger than her sunglasses, Karen glares even harder. “Don’t you sass me. I’m talking about your hair. It’s a distraction.”

“Ma’am,” Ginny says tiredly, “this is my natural hair.” It’s bright red, sure, but it’s never been mistaken for dyed before. Maybe Karens can see shrimp colors, Ginny thinks, smiling a little.

“Hey? Hey!” yells Karen, shoving a hand in front of Ginny’s face. Ginny blinks. “Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” says Ginny, wishing she would just leave already. 

“If your hair really is  _ natural _ ,” says Karen, looking as if she’s disgusted by the mere thought, “then cover it up. I can barely do my shopping at the sight of it.”

Ginny groans, a little too loudly. “Ma’am, I’m not going to cover up my hair. If you don’t like it then check out somewhere else.”

Karen gasps offendedly. “Maybe I will,” she says, snatching her bottle of Diet Coke away from Ginny’s hands. “This establishment has lost a valued customer today.”

She watches her go with a small smile on her face. Ginny, at least, will not miss her at all.

The customer next in line coughs awkwardly and Ginny turns to them, smile disappearing as quickly as a candle being extinguished. “Next.”

Ginny doesn’t look at the person as she begins to scan their items. She doesn’t have enough energy to deal with another Karen tonight. For the millionth time, she laments,  _ why, oh why did I agree to work the night shift? _

“Hey,” says the person, and she looks up to see a large grin on the face of….

Of Harry Potter?

She blinks and shakes her head. Be logical, Ginny, she reasons. What would Harry Potter be doing at a Target, at three in the morning, with a cart full of bananas?

Come again?

She stares down at his cart, positively  _ full  _ with browning bananas.

_ I need to stop working the night shift, _ Ginny thinks idly.  _ It’s making me start seeing things. _

He coughs again, which brings her attention back to her job. “Hey.”

She blinks. “Hello.” And picks up a bunch of bananas to scan.

He grins at her again, a blinding smile. Ginny shakes her head. “I’m seeing things,” she mumbles.

“I don’t believe you are,” says Harry Potter, leaning casually with one elbow on the conveyor belt. It starts to move and he falls over.

He manages to get up, though not-so gracefully, and she stifles a giggle, loading his bananas onto the belt.

“Here,” he says, “let me help you with that.” He picks up a bunch of bananas.

“Handsome  _ and _ a gentleman?” she asks wryly, startling herself. What has gotten into her today?

He blinks, an adorable blush spreading across his face. “I - ”

“Don’t answer that,” Ginny says, suddenly embarrassed, and looks down.

“Hey,” he says for the third time. “It’s okay.”

She looks up, feeling that her face is as red as her hair. “Is it? I just made a fool of myself in front of Ha - uh, some random customer. But still! And I go and  _ flirt _ with him. What’s  _ wrong _ with me? Andddd I’m ranting. Let me shut up now.” She chews her gum violently.

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s an adorable gesture, she notes, then shakes her head harder.  _ What. Is. Wrong. With. Her. _

He doesn’t say anything for a while, and neither does she. They develop a sort of rhythm - he loads the bananas onto the conveyor belt, and she scans them. 

“Why would you even buy bananas at a Target?” she finds herself asking.

“I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully. “I like Target. It always smells like….”

“Like popcorn?” she finishes, and he laughs. 

“Exactly!”

They fall into a contented silence. The store is silent - who else is at Target at three in the morning? so they can take their time.

“Hey,” he says out of nowhere, snapping his fingers. “Do you want to help me get revenge?”

Ginny glances at the clock. It’s 3:55. Her shift ends at 4.

“Sure,” she tells him, scanning the last of the bananas. “Why not.”

He smirks. “Fantastic.”

*

They walk down the dark street, towing the shopping cart full of bananas. Harry’s whistling did nothing but annoy Ginny, looking furtively behind them every other second, as if she expected a serial killer to jump out behind every corner.

“How can you be so  _ calm _ ?” she finally snaps.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. How can you be so jumpy?”

“Maybe because I’m a  _ woman,”  _ she shoots back, “and don't exactly feel comfortable walking down a dark street at night.”

He looks down, smiling at her. “What’s your name?”

“I suppose you don’t know, do you. It’s Ginny. Ginny Weasley.”

Harry gets a strange look on his face, but Ginny passes it off. He smiles at her again. “You’re some girl, Ginny Weasley.”

She shoves him. “Don’t be a stereotype. I was starting to like you.”

His smile fades, but then he sees that she’s laughing and grins. “As I said. Some girl.”

They arrive at a small house with a KEEP OFF THE GRASS sign nailed to the wire fence. Harry steps in front of the gate. 

“This is my, uh, high school chemistry teacher’s house,” says Harry, gesturing to the fence. “He was a bit of a jerk. Scratch that, he was a massive jerk.”

“Looks like one,” says Ginny, raising an eyebrow.

Harry frowns. “What do you mean?”

Ginny gestures to the house. “KEEP OFF THE GRASS? Really?”

He laughs. “Fair point. Now, this bad boy - ” He points to the small porch and sidewalk leading to the lawn - “is going to be absolutely  _ covered _ with banana peels when Sn - when this teacher wakes up tomorrow morning.”

“I see where this is going,” says Ginny, smiling mischievously. “Does this teacher sleep soundly?”

Harry frowns. “That’s the only drawback to my otherwise fabulous plan. I have no idea.”

Ginny shrugs. “Does it really matter? I can be quiet.”

“Oh, can you?” asks Harry. A challenge.

“Bet?”

“Bet,” he says, a smile twitching at his lips.

So, for the next forty-so minutes, they compete to be the quietest. Ginny wins, eventually, when Harry has to cough, but he insists that it doesn’t count. She insists that it does, and so on and so forth.

By six in the morning, the entire porch and sidewalk are absolutely covered with bananas. 

Harry sits back on his knees and dusts his hands off. “Done!” he says in satisfaction.

Ginny smirks, standing up. “Harry….” 

“What?” If he notices that she apparently knows his name, he doesn’t comment.

“Look.” She points at the window, a hooked, twisted face glaring out at them.

Harry jumps up faster than she thought humanly possible.  _ “Run!” _ he yells, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. They abandon the shopping cart full of peeled bananas, not even looking behind them.

Her hand is warm and small in his as they run, laughing and tripping over the road. The sun is beginning to rise, yellow sky gleaming against the dewy lawns that they pass. Eventually they duck behind a bush and fall to their knees, panting and laughing.

She finds herself grinning at him, and to her surprise (or not) he grins back. His smile is just as lovely as it is in the newspapers, she thinks.

His mouth opens in a little O.

Oh, no.

“Did I say that out loud?” she mutters, blushing hard.

He rubs his neck again. “I - yes?” It’s almost a question.

“I’msosorry,” she says hastily, it all coming out in one word. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you - I didn’t mean - ”

“No,” he says quickly, waving his hands around. “It's just - what newspapers?” 

“The Daily Prophet, of course,” says Ginny without thinking.

Harry’s forehead wrinkles. “What’s your name again?”

“Ginny Weasley,” she says.

“Weasley,” he breathes in recognition, and slumps down against the wall. “Of course. And you’re - magical?”

Ginny nods.

He laughs shortly. “What a coincidence. I know your brother.”

“Which one?”

“Ron,” says Harry. “We met at university.”

Ginny nods. After Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione had gone together to a Muggle university - Hermione because she wanted more political experience than could be given from a magical standpoint, Ron because he wanted to enter St. Mungos as a healer with actual medical knowledge (Hermione had given him the idea) rather than have to start with next to nothing like most new healers. Evidently Harry had gone there too.

“I’m - ” Harry starts.

“I know who you are,” says Ginny. They all knew the story of Harry Potter. Grew up with horrible Muggles and without any knowledge of his magical heritage until he was seventeen, when he defeated Voldemort single-handedly and saved them all. 

Harry grins sheepishly. “Oh. Right.”

And then he’s kissing her. She melts into it, but it ends far too quickly for her liking.

They break apart, him smiling softly at her. “Hi,” he says quietly. “Let me introduce myself.”

“Okay,” she says breathlessly, touching her lips.

“I’m Harry,” he tells her. “What’s your name?”

“Ginny,” she tells him, grinning again. 

“Hi, Ginny,” he says. “I think - ” He stops.

“What?”

“I think there are some things two people can’t go through together without resulting in some sort of lasting relationship,” he tells her.

“Personally, I quite agree,” says Ginny. “Such as?”

“Well - ” He pretends to think. “Pranking Professor Snape.”

She falls back against the ground. “You think?”

“I do indeed.”

“Is this you asking me out? If so, absolutely.” She knows she’s being bolder than usual, but what the heck.

He doesn’t answer, instead saying, “here’s my number.” He digs in his pocket for a wrinkled piece of paper and hands it to her.

She stares down at it. “What, do you just carry this around in case you find someone to ask out?” she asks playfully.

“No,” he says seriously. “Just in case I find a breathtakingly beautiful redhead who happens to be working at Target at three in the morning to ask out.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, shoving him, then is suddenly silent. 

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just….” She hesitates. “We just met. For all you know I could be a serial killer.”

“As I said,” says Harry, tracing the side of her cheek until she melts into the touch, “there’s some things two people just can’t go through together without some sort of lasting relationship.”

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” she asks worriedly. 

“I still want to be friends with you,” he says. “You seem like a pretty cool person. Your brother certainly is.”

She screws up her face. “Excuse me, my brother is the opposite of  _ cool. _ ”

He laughs. “A difference of opinion.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person here?”

“Fairly sure.”

They fall into another contented silence, and eventually shift until she’s lying against his chest, his head on the ground and fingers playing with her hair. 

“I’m glad I met you,” she says finally.

“Me too,” he whispers. “God, I’m tired.”

“Me too,” she says, suddenly becoming aware of that fact. “I really need to stop working the night shift.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “But I wouldn’t have met you if you didn’t.”

“Fair,” she says. 

They lay there for a few more minutes.

“My brother’s going to kill you,” she realizes.

“Probably,” he agrees amiably, but she can see hints of fear in his eyes.

  
  


END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment and kudos if you liked it.
> 
> Tumblr @an-elysian-tree


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